


Call Me Baby

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Falling In Love, Freckles, Getting Together, Harry Potter Next Generation, Love Confessions, M/M, Newly established relationship, Nicknames, Romance, Sharing Clothes, sibling dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21512458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Teddy is determined not to fall in love with James too fast. It happens anyway.Or, five times Teddy accidentally uses a nickname for James and the one time James uses one for him.
Relationships: Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter
Comments: 66
Kudos: 826





	Call Me Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tonks914](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonks914/gifts).



> I have missed writing Jeddy so much and had so much fun writing this so I hope everyone enjoys it.
> 
> All my uwu and love to whiskeyandwildflowers for the wonderful beta job on this. <3

The first time it happens is an accident.

Teddy doesn’t mean to do it. Teddy doesn’t mean to do a lot of the things he does around James. 

Whenever Teddy is around James he’s struck dumb. It’s almost like being an awkward teenager all over again. Instead of the capable and well-spoken twenty-six year old Auror he knows he is, Teddy often feels tongue-tied and flustered in James’s presence. Which is exactly how it all happens.

Teddy is in the Potter’s garden talking to Harry about the new Apparition regulations for Aurors while James and Lily have some sort of scrimmage Seekers game and Albus sits on the sidelines judging. It’s a Sunday and Teddy was invited around for a proper roast with Yorkshire’s and mushy peas. Teddy’s always invited around for Sunday dinner. 

This time Teddy actually came.

Teddy’s not proud of the fact that he’s been avoiding the Potter’s lately, but he has. Teddy’d stupidly thought if he avoided the Potter house—and James in particular—he might be able to rid himself of the ridiculous emotional crisis he experienced every time he caught sight of freckles, dark auburn hair and a smile worth dying for. At least, emotional crisis was what Teddy called it in the privacy of his own mind—on the rare occasion he allowed himself to acknowledge the feelings at all—messy and tangled and as out of control as Devil’s Snare.

The last time Teddy had come round a few weeks before Christmas, he’d spend a good hour unable to drag his eyes off James and the way he looked puttering around the house in nothing but the world’s most unfortunate Christmas jumper and a pair of boxers that were most definitely one size too small. The only saving grace about the entire situation was that Teddy was an Auror and therefore good at masking his subterfuge. Or so he thought. After another hour of wistfully watching James as he sat on the sofa chewing on a sugar quill without making a fool of himself—a feat which Teddy thought he was doing quite well all things considered—Albus had grabbed his wand and sent an entire bushel of carrots from the kitchen sailing towards Teddy’s head. Then, because being pelted with phallic produce while James watched on with a bemused expression wasn’t bad enough, Albus had called him an emotionally constipated potato and begged to be put out of his misery. 

Teddy began to avoid them after that, too worried that if Albus had apparently figured him out, James might too. The last thing Teddy needed was James realizing his pathetic, too-old-for-him god brother fancied him and making everything awkward. James cared about the Potters—and James especially—too much to risk that. He just needed a few days to himself to gather his thoughts and not be assaulted by the sight of James’s Quidditch-toned, freckle-covered thighs. Except a few days turned into a few weeks and before he knew it, Teddy was missing his Saturday night beer and Quidditch on the Wireless with Harry, he was missing Christmas with the Potters, and even skipped their annual New Year’s party for the first time in his adult life. 

The longer he stayed away, the harder it became to imagine going back. Distance was supposed to make his feelings smaller, not feel like someone sent an Engorgio to his heart every time he closed his eyes and thought of James. 

As the weeks went on, the owls from Harry and James continued to build up to the point where Teddy could no longer feign exhaustion or work commitments. Eventually he’d caved and come around for Sunday dinner. 

To his surprise, the world doesn’tt end when he walks through the Floo and is greeted with an armful of James who whispers “ _I missed you, you fucking arsehole_. Neither does it end when James sits next to him and smiles as if Teddy’s presence at dinner is something worth an extra bit of joy. He doesn’t even lose his cool when their hands brush as James passes him the bowl of mushy peas. So yeah, Teddy is pretty bloody proud of himself all things considered.

By the time dinner is over and Teddy finds himself in the garden talking to Harry, he’s even more proud of himself. He’s made it two hours without making a massive arse of himself or ending up on the wrong end of Albus’s wand. Things are going perfectly.

At least, until things go wonky.

And truly, it isn’t Teddy’s fault. None of it is Teddy’s fault.

In a world where someone like James Sirius Potter exists, Teddy can’t be expected to have any control over his traitorous mouth.

But really,things were going fine. At least until Harry and Ginny go inside to get pudding and Lily follows to help, and then Albus skulks off, presumably to Firecall Scorpius. Then it’s only James and Teddy left standing in the garden, the moon unnaturally bright and shining a halo atop James’s unruly head of curls as he stops to stand beside Teddy.

“So did you see me beat, Lily?” He asks, voice pitched high with excitement. “I was pretty fucking incredible right? There’s no way Puddlemere won’t want to sign me at my try out next week.”

Teddy had seen, had barely been able to follow Harry’s conversation what with James soaring through the air as if he were born to be in flight—his curls, just this side of too long, whipping through the air and his exuberant laughter echoing across the garden. James on a broom is a marvel.

Teddy opens his mouth to answer, fully intending to say something normal and respectable like _Yes, I saw you._ Unfortunately, what comes out is something else entirely.

“You were incredible, sweetheart.”

Several things happen all at once. The first is that Teddy’s entire life flashes before his eyes. He’d well and truly thought he’d live past twenty six, but apparently dropping dead of mortal embarrassment is how he’s gonna go. The second is that James emits a particularly high pitched sound not unlike a bandicoot. The third—and in Teddy’s opinion most remarkable thing—is that James pitches himself forward and slams his lips against Teddy’s.

It’s a bit too wonky to be a proper kiss. It’s over too fast, and there are more teeth than lips, and since James is stronger than he looks he sends Teddy stumbling backward, which is alright since Teddy is stronger than he looks too and steadies them both. But it’s James. James’s lips against his, and it’s bloody perfect.

James blinks up at him with his pretty brown eyes and whispers, “Say it again.”

Teddy does. “You were incredible.”

James’s face pinches up adorably and he shakes his head, a stray curl falling across his forehead. “Not that part. The other part.”

And oh. _Oh._

“Sweetheart,” Teddy whispers, angling his face down closer to James’s.

Teddy’s ears ring and he’s got exactly zero seconds to prepare before James’s arms are wrapping around his neck and James is kissing him again. 

In the background Teddy is dully aware of the sound of the Potters reemerging. There’s a crash that sounds suspiciously like someone has dropped the trifle to the ground, and Lily is definitely cheering. It's hard to make sense of words when James’s full, warm lips are sliding against Teddy’s, but he’s pretty sure Albus asks Harry if this means he gets James’s room now.

Objectively, Teddy knows they should have some decorum and pull apart. Except he can’t. 

“Again,” James begs, his hands tangled in Teddy’s hair and his lips kiss swollen. “ _Again._ ”

Teddy’s self-control only extends so far, and James begging tests even his limits. He’s aware of the Potters all watching them, aware they’re making a scene. But he just doesn’t fucking care.

“Sweetheart,” Teddy says, louder this time.

* * *

The thing about dating James—properly dating him—is that it’s actually not all that different from how things were before between them.

They still go to the pub every Friday night and they usually spend Teddy’s day off tracking down the greasiest chippy they can find and eating too much. James’s gaze and touch still lingers on Teddy—which really should’ve been a tip off that James would reciprocate his feelings a long time ago. James still spends so much time at Teddy’s flat that he might as well live there, and they still argue over who gets the remote to the telly.

There is one difference though. One really fucking big difference.

The kissing. 

Merlin, the kissing.

James barely waits two seconds after falling through Teddy’s Floo before he’s wrapped around him like an overgrown octopus—lips firmly on Teddy’s. It’s good. So good. Sometimes it's all Teddy can do not to whimper and groan and beg James never to stop. The only thing that keeps the words from falling from Teddy’s lips is the fear that if they did then James might, well, _stop._

Stop coming round so much. Stop touching him so casually all the bloody time. Stop wanting Teddy.

Teddy’s established that James likes him, but they haven’t had a conversation about it yet. Not specifically anyway. James is more of a doer than a talker, and Teddy is more of a stick-your-head-in-the-sand kind of bloke. 

So Teddy bites back a lot of the words he wants to say, choking them down as he smiles at James and tries not to scare him away with how fucking much Teddy likes him. 

James is still only nineteen and has his entire life in front of him. He’s been signed to Puddlemere United as their new Seeker, has a spread coming out in _Witch Weekly_ next month, and is achieving every one of his lifelong dreams to be known as _James_ and not just as a Potter. He’s establishing himself as something special in a world of mediocrity and Teddy, Teddy lives in daily fear that James might one day wake up and realize that Teddy doesn’t fit quite right in this future.

Whenever Teddy entertains the thought, a stab of guilt assaults him. It feels like a thought that James would be really bloody angry about if he knew Teddy was having it. Teddy can picture his cheeks going red and his freckles standing out and the way he might put his hands on his hips just like his mum. Objectively, Teddy knows it isn’t a nice thing to worry about. But Teddy isn’t always nice, despite what people think. Being a Hufflepuff doesn’t automatically make him immune from stupid, unkind thoughts. 

Either way, Teddy tries his hardest not to think about it.

Instead he focuses on the slide of James’s lips against his and the way James rises onto tiptoes, arm curling around Teddy’s waist and pulling their chests together as if he wants to be as close to Teddy as humanly possible. It’s nice, so fucking nice.

James is a marvel, his eyes wide and devoid of anything but breathtaking honesty as he pulls out of the kiss, smiling at Teddy and decimating his heart before he rests his forehead against Teddy’s chin. “Practice was too fucking long. The coach is a massive arse. Also, you smell good. S’nice.”

Warmth blooms in Teddy’s chest, the same way it always does when James mentions something he likes about Teddy as if he isn’t casually making Teddy fall arse over tit in love with him.

“It’s just that soap you bought me,” Teddy objects. He doesn’t mention how he’s gone through three bars of it since James bought it for him, unable to stop himself and his wandering thoughts from getting carried away every time he takes a shower. Thankfully James is too tired to notice that Teddy’s face is flushed. Teddy can’t see himself, but he imagines he closely resembles a Pygmy Puff right now.

“Nope, just you. You smell really fucking good,” James repeats. He nuzzles his nose into Teddy’s neck, kissing across his Adam’s apple and down to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

As he moves on across Teddy’s shoulder, the kisses slow, Teddy can practically feel the exhaustion radiating off James in waves. The coach has been training James into the ground to make sure he’s ready for his first professional game next week, and James, well, he’s been training himself even harder. Most people see James’s easy laughter and constant smile and take it at face value. They assume he doesn’t work his fucking ass off for the things he wants. James might pretend he doesn’t care that most of the Wizarding World thinks he got on the team because of his name, but Teddy knows James is bordering on desperate to prove himself.

The problem is if James doesn’t rest soon, he’s gonna kill himself before he gets a chance to play.

“Did you stop and see the team Healer before you came here?” Teddy asks, already knowing the answer.

“Nope, m’fine,” James slurs, nearly dead on his feet as he drops his chin onto Teddy’s shoulder and lets Teddy support his weight. 

Teddy hums noncommittally, knowing that arguing with James is like arguing with a bloody fucking rock. Instead, he lets his hands roam up James’s back, fingers kneading into the muscles to check for tightness as he makes his way up to James’s shoulders. James makes an obscene sound, and Teddy bites back a smile. 

“How about you lay on the sofa and rest.”

James grunts. “We were supposed to go to the cinema.”

Teddy doesn’t give a flying fuck about the cinema. He only agreed so easily because James wanted to have a date at a Muggle cinema, and Teddy wanted to do anything with James. He would have agreed to a date in a dirt field if James asked, not that he’s about to say that out loud and risk sounding like pathetic tosser.

“Come on. Sofa. Now. I’ll put on the kettle.”

James makes no indication of moving or agreeing, and then Teddy’s mouth is moving without his permission.

“Come on, love, let me take care of you.”

James doesn’t make a sound, Teddy can feel the sharp inhale of breath.

“Okay,” James whispers.

* * *

“So how are things?” Harry asks.

Ginny and Lily have gone to track down snacks and Albus is, well, Teddy has no fucking clue where Albus is. Probably wherever Scorpius is. All Teddy knows is he’s alone with Harry. He’s been around Harry plenty since he and James got together, but this is the first time there hasn’t been another person around. Technically, Teddy supposes being in the top box of the Puddlemere pitch surrounded by thousands of screaming fans isn’t actually alone, but they’re in Harry’s personal box which has enough privacy wards to make it feel like you’re alone.

“Things are good. I managed to close the Macmillan case yesterday. That case was a bit of a nightmare but you know, I managed.” He twirls his Butterbeer between his hands.

“Yeah, I’ve got the case file on my desk to review on Monday. I’m sure you did well, you always do. You’re an incredible Auror, Teddy.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Teddy whispers, lifting the Butterbeer and taking a deep chug that burns on the way down. 

“I, uh, didn’t mean about work though. Not that you can’t talk about that with me if you’d like to. You can always talk to me about work. In or out of the office. As your boss or your godfather or as your friend,” Harry clarifies.

“Thanks,” Teddy says again, equal parts amused and touched by Harry’s blustering. 

“I meant how are _you_ ,” Harry clarifies.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Teddy answers, tapping his foot.

Harry’s eyes hone in on the tapping and he smiles. “I was an absolute wreck before Ginny’s first professional game.”

“You never told me that,” Teddy marvels. It’s hard to imagine Harry ever being nervous.

“I didn’t want her to know I was nervous, didn’t want her to think I doubted her at all. She was born to fly you know, born to do anything she wanted really. Ginny’s a force to be reckoned with and I think on an instinctual level I knew she’d be fine.”

“But you were still nervous?” Teddy asks.

“‘Course I was,” Harry laughs. He claps Teddy on the knee and grins. “I loved her. I was so fucking proud of her and I just wanted her to have her dream. She’d spent so long supporting me and this was all for her—she deserved it so much. But I knew the other team was itching to try and prove that she’d got the position because she was married to me and not because she deserved it. I think any time you care about someone, you worry. Especially with something like this.”

“But she did good,” Teddy says, a statement and not a question. He’s more than well aware of the incredible story of Ginny’s record-breaking first game with the Harpies. The entire Wizarding World is. James especially. Teddy knows James is terrified of being a second-rate replacement for his mum or dad.

“‘Course she did,” Harry agrees. “But I was still sick in the loo during half time. Not that she knows that. Probably best if we keep that between you and me.”

Harry winks and Teddy feels like this is his opportunity to say something. Problem is, he isn’t sure what. His brain is working too fast for his mouth to keep up, so he says nothing. Thankfully, Harry fills the silence. He’s good at that.

“James is gonna do great. He’s better than I ever was. Maybe even better than Ginny. I’ve never seen anyone handle a broom the way he does,” Harry says. He leans on his knees and peers out at the stadium. “But if you were still nervous, you know it’d be normal. It wouldn’t mean you didn’t have faith in his abilities.

Teddy’s heart beats against his ribcage, rattling around in his chest like a wild animal desperate to be free. He hasn’t let himself stop and admit he’s worried too. It feels like a disservice to all of James’s natural talent and hard work. Teddy knows James will do well, will blow everyone away. _And yet._

Nervous. Teddy is nervous.

The acknowledgement of his feelings, even to himself, at least explains why his throat feels too small and his jumper feels too small and he can’t stop fidgeting with the rim of his Butterbeer bottle. 

Teddy is thankfully saved from having to admit this to anyone else by the arrival of Ginny and Lily weighted down with packets of crisps, more Butterbeer, and a rather obscene amount of sweets. Albus pops into the box not ten minutes later looking guilty as fuck with Scorpius trailing behind him. Teddy has no time to ponder over his suspicions about how deep Albus’s friendship with Scorpius truly runs because the game is beginning, and Teddy’s ability to think about anything except James flies away as quickly as James flies into the stadium.

James’s arrival is met with thundering cheers, none louder than the ones coming from Harry’s box. Teddy screams himself hoarse along with the rest of the Potters. He also works his way through more of the packets of sweets than he is comfortable admitting, which he privately supposes is at least better than biting off his nails or hexing the referee when the Kestrels’s Chaser commits the most blatant offense of blagging against James that Teddy’s seen in years. Things only go downhill from there. Teddy nearly reaches for his fucking wand when James is inches from wrapping his fingers around the Snitch, and the Kestral’s Beater has the bloody audacity to snitchnap.

By the time James catches the Snitch seventy six minutes later—because of fucking course he does, no matter how dirty the other team has played—Teddy feels close to chundering. Though whether it’s from the pocketful of empty sweet wrappers, or the two and a half hour game during which James was nearly knocked from his broom no less than three times, Teddy can’s be sure.

All he knows is that by the time James is showered and leaving the changing rooms, Teddy feels like he might actually implode if he doesn’t get to touch James. Of course the entire fucking Wizarding World apparently has the same idea, because Teddy can’t get within thirty yards of James with the hoards of witches and wizards of all ages clamoring to get close to him. It takes a good hour before James is able to work his way through the crowd, his freckles exceptionally noticeable beneath his blush as he signs everything from replica broomsticks and hats to someone’s bloody stomach.

Once James’s fans have dispersed, there’s James’s family to contend with—each one of them dying to recount the game in exceptional detail as if James hadn’t just lived it all himself. For his part, James looks pleased by the flood of attention, his ears red and his smile so wide it splits his face in two.

Despite the itch in Teddy’s fingers to drag James away all for himself, Teddy can’t begrudge him this moment. He’s worked so hard for this. James deserves it and more. He deserves everything. 

It’s just that if Teddy is honest, and he’s at least honest with himself—he’s feeling selfish. The world has had James for hours and it’s Teddy’s turn. He wants to pull James’s warm body against his own, wants the smile that graces James’s face to be because of him. He wants James’s talented fingers sliding into his hair and he wants to know what victory taste like on James’s pretty mouth.

James is everything beautiful and bright and warm, and being near him makes Teddy feel as if the world is full of sunshine. A thought that Teddy is apparently incapable of keeping to himself when James makes his way over to Teddy a few minutes later.

“Hi,” James whispers, reaching out and toying with the hem of Teddy’s jumper.

Out of the corner of his eye, Teddy can see Harry dragging Albus and Lily away, granting them a small bit of privacy. And that's the moment Teddy’s mouth betrays him.

“Hello, sunshine.”

Teddy snaps his mouth shut. This thing he keeps accidentally doing, letting his mouth run away with him, is going to go too far one day. Except, if James’s reaction is anything to go by, that day is not today.

James entire face lights up, his little inhale of breath audible. There’s something in his eyes that makes Teddy feel short of breath, and it’s all Teddy can do not to crash his lips against James’s right then and there, the people still surrounding them be damned.

“I won,” James says softly. This time both his hands rest on Teddy’s hips and he steps into Teddy’s personal space. There are people watching, photos being taken, and James apparently doesn’t care. The entire world will know they’re together by the following morning and James knows it, and still he presses a kiss to Teddy’s lips.

It’s the most chaste kiss they’ve shared yet, and Teddy’s heart shatters into a million pieces.

“You won,” Teddy echoes.

James kisses him again, just as chaste and brief, but it’s Teddy who feels like he’s won when James tucks a stray bit of hair behind Teddy’s ear and smiles.

* * *

“And then, then—” Albus shouts, voice louder than it would normally be if he wasn’t on his third glass of Firewhiskey. Apparently turning down a job offer is now grounds for celebration, or so Albus declared when he’d dragged James—and by osmosis Teddy—out to the pub.“And then, I said you can take that offer and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. Then I gave him the two finger salute and walked out.”

James slams a hand onto the table and cheers, earning them a few stray glances but nothing more than that. “That’s my little Albie. I’m so proud of you.”

Albus glares. “M’not little.”

Teddy resists the urge to laugh. Albus certainly looks as petulant as a five year old, but it's not an observation he thinks would go over well. James can always handle that kind of teasing, Albus not so much. The only person he seems to tolerate teasing from is James. Everyone else knows not to bother or they'll end up on the wrong end of Albus’s temper or his wand. Then again, James has always gotten away with more where Albus and Lily are concerned.

He’s always chalked it up to a sibling thing he won’t ever understand. Either way he bites back the thought and says something else instead.

“So what will you do then now that you’ve officially turned down the job at the Prophet?” Teddy asks. He’s starting to feel the effects of his own drinks as well. He’s only had two, but the pub is crowded enough that the room is sweltering despite him shedding his robes and jumper half an hour prior, and James is pressed up tightly against his side from thigh to shoulder even though he’s got plenty of space on his side to scoot over. Teddy is warm and relaxed and though it's just pub night with Albus, it’s their first time out as a couple with someone else and the euphoria has made Teddy a little lightheaded.

“We’ll see,” Albus mumbles, lifting up his glass and squinting at it. “Besides, wasn’t like I was actually going to take the job when the first story they wanted me to write was _The Dirty Secrets of James Sirius Potter: How the Eldest Potter Bewitched His Way to Underserved Fame_.

“Aw, Albus, you love me,” James says, lifting his drink then frowning when he realizes it’s empty. Without a word, Teddy slides his own in front of James who grins, knocking their knees beneath the table before finishing Teddy’s drink. It’s at least three times as strong as whatever fruity thing James was drinking and James grunts, slamming the glass down on the counter.

“Fuck you, I do not,” Albus objects, hunching down into his seat. 

“Lies,” James mumbles, before he’s sliding away into the empty spot beside them. Teddy only has a few seconds to miss the warmth of James so close to him before James is unexpectedly rising to stand on the booth seat and cupping his hands around his mouth. As if preparing for the worst Albus groans, tugging his hoodie over his head and practically disappearing beneath the table.

“Oi, you lot! In honour of having the world's most trustworthy and loyal brother, everyone’s next round is on me!”

There’s a few seconds delay as people struggle to catch up with the unexpected announcement, the dawning realization of who had just shouted, along with the words being said creates a bit of a scene as people begin chanting “Three cheers for Potter!”

James looks like the Kneazle that ate the cream as he drops back down onto the bench, crossing his arms and grinning.

“I fucking hate you,” Albus grumbles, trying to kick James beneath the table but missing and kicking Teddy.

“I love you too, Albus.”

Albus doesn’t seem to be listening. Instead, his attention is on the patrons of the crowded pub. He ignores James for a few moments and then turns his attention back on James and laughs. “There’s seventy-one people in here. That’s gonna cost you a fucking fortune. Probably your entire first paycheck.”

James shrugs. “S’worth it. I really am proud of you for sticking it to the Prophet. They can suck a dick.”

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” Albus grumbles, turning to look at Teddy. “Try not to let him spent his entire Gringotts vault while I’m gone.”

James still looks pleased, a lazy smile on his face as he leans back against the seat and turns his gaze on Teddy. He’s so unmistakably pleased with himself, and it’s a level of cockiness that only James could manage to make seem sweet. Teddy is so fond of him it makes his chest ache. 

Trying to quell the raging desire fluttering in his chest, Teddy throws his right arm over the back of the booth and lets his thumb stroke down the back of James’s neck. He cut his hair yesterday, most of the haphazard curls gone. He looks beautiful then and now, but Teddy finds it hard to deny how much he likes the way the freshly buzzed undercut feels against the pad of his thumb, or how good James looks with his hair combed over to one side in a wavy swoop. 

“That was a nice thing you did, Jamie.”

Teddy doesn’t even startle when he realizes what he’s said. He hasn’t called James that in nearly a year. 

Everyone called him Jamie as a kid, and then when he’d been old enough to go off to Hogwarts he’d demanded everyone only call him James, no more Jamie allowed. Technically, he’d let Teddy still call him Jamie, so call him that he had. At least until James had come back from a summer abroad at Quidditch camp, freshly eighteen, sun-kissed, and covered in more freckles than Teddy had ever seen. Teddy realized then that his favourite little Jamie wasn’t little anymore and hadn’t been for a long time, if Teddy was perfectly honest with himself. With an entirely new set of confusing feelings to deal with, Teddy had stopped calling him Jamie in the hope of putting some distance between James and his stupid feelings. He couldn’t handle having a special nickname for James when what he really wanted was more than he was willing to give. 

Except now they’re together, and Teddy’s feelings are apparently not as stupid and unrequited as he’d long feared. He’s so happy and relaxed and the name just comes out, as if it was always meant to fall from his lips. 

In a way, it’s not really that surprising that he’s come full circle with it. From little Jamies to James to _Jamie_. His Jamie.

Teddy doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal really, but maybe James disagrees because he’s breathing funny as he looks at Teddy like, well, Teddy isn’t sure like what. Whatever it is though makes heat pool low in Teddy’s belly as his hand curls possessively around the back of James’s neck. 

Maybe it’s the liquor or just James’s proximity, but Teddy is full of confidence he’s not used to. 

James licks his lips, the rise and fall of his chest slow and measured as he watches Teddy intently, almost as if he’s waiting for something. Teddy isn’t sure what James would be waiting for, but he wants to give it to him. Fuck, he wants to give him everything.

“Jamie,” he begins, unsure what exactly he wants to say. 

It turns out that it doesn’t matter, because James doesn’t let him finish anyway, fisting a hand in Teddy’s t-shirt and straddling his lap. Or trying to, at least. It’s difficult since the booth barely has room for one grown man, let alone two. That problem isn’t really a problem as far as Teddy is concerned though. Not when it means Teddy has a lapful of James. 

James fists his hands in Teddy’s hair and kisses him like he might die if he stops, his arse half on the table and knocking over their glasses. There’s a good chance of them getting charged for damages or getting kicked out, both of which Teddy should definitely be concerned about as an Auror, even an off duty one.

He’s not.

He lets his arms twine around James’s lap, tugging him closer until James’s denim clad dick rubs against Teddy’s stomach and, fuck it all, the entire pub could burst into flames and Teddy wouldn’t move from this spot.

James ruts forward, just once, and Teddy is basically going to lose his mind at the undeniable proof that kissing him is enough to get James hard as a rock in ten seconds flat. It’s heady and powerful, and Teddy has no idea if he wants to ruin James or be ruined by him. He only knows that his entire existence is narrowed down to James.

“For fuck’s sake, you two,” Albus groans. 

They both ignore him. James because he’s got Teddy’s bottom lip pulled into his mouth, and Teddy, well, for the same reason. 

Albus sighs loudly, but it doesn’t garner him any more attention which seems to agitate him further, if the sound of Albus slamming a beer onto the table is any indication. 

“Oh, Jamie,” Teddy whispers making James keen. His kisses get sloppier as he pulls Teddy’s hair so hard it almost hurts..

 _Jamie_ , he thinks.

Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.

 _His_ Jamie.

* * *

Teddy rubs his temples, the words on his desk bleeding together until he can barely make sense of any of them. He's been staring, his head is beginning to throb, and even his eyes ache. He’s been at the same report for the better part of five hours and despite his insistence that he wouldn’t leave the office until he felt like he had cracked a lead on this case, Teddy is pretty sure he’s going to do just that.

He casts a quick Tempus charm, groaning when he realizes it's past eight. There goes any chance he had of popping over to see James after work. At this rate, he’ll be lucky to have time and make a pot noodle before he needs to crash in bed and then wake up early tomorrow to do it all over again.

Teddy’s been so busy the last week with the Blishwick case he’s had to cancel on James twice, and the only thing stronger than the guilt he feels is the ache in his chest. He misses James. It’s only been five days and yet it feels like a lifetime. It makes Teddy feel like a lovestruck teenager and not an adult. _Lovestruck_.

Teddy makes a wounded sound, dropping his forehead onto his desk. He can’t be in love with James. It’s only been two months. Clearly it's too soon to be thinking about things like love. If only someone would tell his stupid brain and his stupid heart that.

With a groan, Teddy lifts his head off his desk and reaches for his wand. He’s clearly over hungry and overtired if he’s moping about in his office like this. It’s time to get home, scrounge up some food, and crash. 

He spares one last glance at the report on his desk and resolves himself to worry about that, and the possibility of his too-big feelings for James tomorrow—preferably over tea and a bacon butty from the shop on the corner.

Teddy wraps his fingers around his wand and closes his eyes, focusing on the kitchen of his poky little flat where he’s praying there’s at least one pot noodle left—he definitely needs to do food shopping tomorrow—and Apparates home. The moment his eyes open, Teddy has a brief moment of disorientation.

The sight around him _looks_ like his flat. There’s his squashy sofa in the center of the room and a familiar stack of mail on the end table he’s been ignoring. His photos cover the wall above his fireplace—familiar faces flickering in and out of view. It’s got to be his place, and yet the fact that it smells like he just walked into an Italian restaurant is unmistakable.

He tightens his hold on his wand as he crosses the small space between his living room and kitchen. James is stood at the stove, humming to himself as a pot of what smells suspiciously like spag bol stirs itself.

James is here. James is here in his flat and he’s cooked.

Teddy is so tired and so hungry and so overcome with gratefulness and a bone deep fondness for the man in front of him that he speaks before he can think better of it.

“Honey, I’m home.”

James spins around comically fast, the spoon that was stirring the pan clattering to the floor and sending bits of pasta and meat sauce flying.

“Fucking shit,” James grumbles, cheeks pinking. He hunches his shoulders looking unexpectedly bashful and grins. “Hi, Teddy.”

“You don’t cook,” Teddy blurts out, trying to make sense of the unexpected domestic scene in front of him. It’s only then that he notices James’s broom by the window and his training bag on the floor. His hair is still damp, and there’s a stray water droplet cascading down the side of his neck. He’s wearing Teddy’s favorite pair of grey joggers which are slightly big—hanging low on James’s small waist—and the cuffs at the bottom cover his bare feet, only his toes poking out. He’s also got on Teddy’s old Prefect jumper, the arms pushed up to his elbows. Teddy can put the pieces together. James clearly came straight from practice to Teddy’s flat to shower and nick Teddy’s clothes. But none of that explains the food. He’s never seen James cook anything. Ever.

James tugs the jumper sleeves down, toying with the loose thread near his left wrist. 

“I uh...I’ve been practicing. You’ve been so busy lately, so Gran’s been teaching me to cook. You just...you’ve been living on takeaway and pot noodles and you know—” he shrugs, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

Teddy nearly stumbles. James learned to cook _for him_. It’s the single sweetest gesture a significant other has ever done for him, and such a James thing to do, that Teddy feels punched in the gut by the sudden and undeniable realisation that he’s arse over tits in love with him.

He laughs, because if he doesn’t he might cry. It’s too much. Teddy’s tried denying his feelings for weeks, but there’s no denying it now—Teddy is in love with James. It feels inevitable really, one person cannot possibly be expected to be in the presence of someone as handsome and talented and unselfish as James and not fall in love with them.

“You learned to cook for me,” Teddy repeats, his brain unable to do more than state the obvious.

James’s cheeks flush further, the freckles on the bridge of his nose standing out starkly. He looks unsure, as if there could possibly be any reality where Teddy isn’t moved by the act.

“I mean...it might taste like shit. And I can only cook this one thing but you know...yeah.”

Teddy opens his mouth to say thank you, but his brain betrays him again.

“ _Honey_.”

James squeaks, eyes widening as he inhales sharply.

Teddy doesn’t trust himself to speak so he doesn't. Instead, he crosses the room and pulls James into a hug. James falls into him easily, wrapping his arms around Teddy’s waist and burying his face into Teddy’s shoulder, and Teddy exhales a shuddering sigh as he presses a kiss to the top of James’s head.

This is fine. Teddy can handle this. 

Everything will be fine.

* * *

It’s not long before Teddy realizes that everything is not, in fact, fine.

After the cooking incident, James behaves much the same. Which, really, is exactly the problem. He still hogs the sofa and steals the remote when Teddy gets up to piss. He comes and goes from Teddy’s flat like it’s his, eating Teddy’s—clearly not well-hidden—stash of strawberry creams, and drinking all his milk.  
He also does things like cut out ridiculous articles about each of them from the Prophet, owling them to Teddy with obscene doodles in the margins that make Teddy choke on his tea. He leaves packets of sweets in Teddy’s Auror robes for Teddy to find during long meetings, and he makes Teddy laugh even on the days where the cases are so dark and heavy the act of smiling feels impossible.

On the best and worst of days, James is like starlight and sunshine and all good things wrapped in one. He’s funny and genuine and unabashedly himself all the time, and he makes it easier for Teddy to be, well— _just Teddy_.

And that is exactly the bloody problem.

James is James and Teddy loves that. He loves it a whole fucking lot. 

It shouldn’t be a problem, except that it is. Because Teddy isn’t supposed to be in love with James, at least not this soon. They’ve only been together a few months and James’s star is rising higher and higher every day, and the last thing he needs is Teddy asking for part of his future. Most of the time Teddy can forget their age difference, but not now. Not when he thinks about how much life James has left to live.

Teddy doesn't want to hold him back. He wants James to have everything.

He tries to push his feelings down, tries to ignore them as long as he can. 

His best turns out to be not very good.

“What is this?” Teddy asks, holding the jersey in his hand.

“A jersey,” James says, smirking. The ornery arsehole.

“I see that, thank you,” Teddy laughs. “But uh...you know.”

James apparently does know because he shifts on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets. The smirk falls from his face and he suddenly looks like he might chunder. “It’s a personal Quidditch kit. The team manager had one made for each of us with our name and number for the big game next week. Alderton got one for his wife. And uh, Blishen and Murk and Davies all game them to their fiances and um—” James pauses, inhaling a deep breath. Instead of blowing it back out he simply holds it, face going red and splotchy.

Oh. _Oh_.

“What like a WAG?” Teddy whispers.

James looks like he might choke on his own air, but he nods. “They really need a more gender neutral term for that. Not all of us are interested in women.”

Teddy smiles, warmth blossoming through him. “James.”

James still looks like he’s close to being sick, attempting to take on an air of nonchalance. “It’s um...only if you want to wear it. You don’t have to or anything, but uh...I’d like it if you did. That is, um...I know maybe you don’t always think I'm mature enough for you and I leave my shit all over the flat and we’ve eaten a lot of spag bol lately because its the only thing I can make and I keep forgetting to buy more strawberry creams and—”

“I love you,” Teddy blurts out before he can overthink the confession.

“You—” James starts then stops, blinking at Teddy like he’s seen a ghost.

Teddy feels like he should find a way to acquire a Time Turner and say less. Instead, his stupid fucking mouth says more. “I love you. I love your messes and your spag bol and the way you always taste like strawberry creams and I want your shit all over the flat forever.” 

James still doesn’t move and Teddy knows there’s no going back now so he closes the distance, the jersey falling to the floor as he cups James’s face. “I love you so much, James. I’m sorry if that’s too much too soon, but I can’t take it back. I won’t. I love you, and I just need you to know that.”

James’s bottom lip quivers, moisture pooling at the corner of his eyes. “You stupid fucking idiot,” he mumbles, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I’ve been in love with you my entire fucking life.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh, Mr Top of His Class Prefect and Top Auror but Also Most Oblivious Fucking Pillock in the Entire Bloody World.”

It’s Teddy’s turn to blush. “You love me.”

“I love you so much, baby,” James says, snapping his mouth shut. The tips of his ears go red. and he turns his doe eyes on Teddy. “Is that, uh...is that okay? The love part and the, uh...the other part.”

Teddy’s throat feels too small and it's his turn to scrub his hand over his face, his chest fluttering so rapidly he can barely breathe. No one has ever called him that, ever. He thinks he suddenly understands James’s reaction those last few times when Teddy’d let loose his own terms of endearment. It feels...it feels good. Really good. 

Teddy drops his forehead down to rest it against James’s, whispering, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” James echoes. “So you’ll, uh, wear the jersey?”

“Yes,” Teddy answers emphatically. “Yes.”

James smiles again, a smile so big it lights up his entire face. He’s happy, and Teddy feels fucking weak in the knees knowing he is the cause of that happiness.

“Just one thing,” Teddy says, resting his hands on James’s hips.

“Yeah, what’s that,”

“Call me baby.”

James grins, eyes lighting up. “ _Baby_.”


End file.
